


Give Up The Ghost

by foldingcranes



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Director Stark, Kink Meme, M/M, Post-Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldingcranes/pseuds/foldingcranes
Summary: Director Stark gets a late night visit.





	Give Up The Ghost

_Oh, the things we invent when we are scared_  
_And want to be rescued._  
—Richard Sicken.  
  
  
Falling asleep at his office in the helicarrier has become so recurrent Tony doesn’t think a lot about it anymore. The shadows are tall in the poorly illuminated space, with not even the light of a screen brightening the place. With Extremis, Tony doesn’t have a need for computers. Neither he does for sleeping.  
  
But, sometimes, his mind is weak and his body aches and reality becomes so hard to deal with that disappearing in the crack of a normal human function becomes the best option. Drifting in and out of sleep, slumped over his desk and communications turned off in his mind, Tony sleeps with his head cradled on his arms.  
  
A hand, soft on his back, brings him back slowly to wakefulness. The touch is gentle and teasing, fingers going up from his lower back to the back of his neck. Once there, the fingers close around his neck, just under his nape, and squeeze a little.  
  
“Tony.”  
  
The hand around his neck tightens. Everything in the room seems to still, even the light breeze that entered through the wind. All the clocks seem to go dead, and time seems to reach an imaginary end. Heart beating too fast and hands trembling, Tony opens his eyes but doesn’t dare raise his head. “Steve.” He swallows, like a stone has found its way down his throat. “Steve?”  
  
“Look at me, Tony.”  
  
And Tony does, almost weeping. There, standing tall and proud behind Tony’s back, he can see Steve’s reflection on the glass that covers the surface of his desk. He just needs to turn.  
  
“Look at me, Tony. Come on, take a look.”  
  
When he does look, Steve has gone from looking healthy and beautiful and whole, to being bullet riddled and covered in blood, his uniform torn to shreds. “You were so good once, Shellhead. Remember?”  
  
Tony chokes back a sob and slips away from his chair, falling to his knees. Struggling for air and filled with panic, he covers his own face with his hands. “You’re not real. You’re dead.”  
  
“Am I?” Steve asks, voice gentle but firm. He gets behind Tony and kneels with him, holding him, strong arms surrounding Tony’s waist, chest pressed against Tony’s back. “You don’t believe that, don’t you? Everyone comes back eventually, Tony. You’ve seen it.”  
  
Steve’s breath is hot against Tony’s ear, and he lets out a small sigh. “I missed you so much, Steve.”  
  
“I know,” a hand slides all the way down Tony’s chest, pushing up under his shirt, skimming over the planes of Tony’s stomach. He doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, wanting to lose himself in the sensation. Skin tingling every time Steve’s fingertips merely graze him, making him arch his spine. “I know, Tony. You don’t  _deserve_  it but, I—I missed you too.”  
  
“Steve—” Steve’s hand reaches the waistband of his pants and undoes his belt in a couple of swift motions. Tracing the outline of Tony’s hardening cock, he thumbs the tip through the fabric of the underwear, noticing the growing damp spot on it. Tony moans pitifully, “Steve… please. Please.”  
  
Steve kisses his neck, lips over his pulse. He bites into the soft skin there, grip on Tony’s cock tightening. Letting go only to push his underwear off, freeing his erection. Tony feels his head spin as Steve fists Tony’s cock and strokes it slowly once, twice, then he’s letting Tony fuck his hand, grinding his own erection against Tony’s ass. “Please, what? What do you want, Tony?”  
  
Tony swallows, holding back tears. “You. I want you, Steve.  _Please_.”  
  
“On your hands and knees. Now.” Before obeying, Tony grabs a bottle of hand lotion from a drawer on his desk and hands it to Steve. He spreads his legs and feels the weight of Steve caging him, hears the clink of Steve’s belt falling to the floor. “We could have had this and so much more, Tony. If only you had listened. If only you have been  _braver_.”  
  
A wave of sorrow shoots through Tony’s heart, like he’s been stabbed. Throat closing up with sadness, he stares at the floor and tries to focus on his breathing. On the feeling of Steve’s hand gripping his hip hard enough to leave bruises. On Steve’s fingers, breaching him and moving inside of him, probing for the right angle to make him scream. In and out. Steve kisses up his back.  
  
“Why did you have to be a coward, Tony?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, and he sounds like he’s breaking and falling into little pieces around Tony’s body. “Why did you have to destroy us? Why did you  _kill me_?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Tony sobs. “I’m sorry, Steve. God, I’m so sorry, I can’t... I can’t even—”  
  
The grip on Tony’s hip grows tighter and he whines when Steve’s fingers slip out of him, but then— Steve is pushing inside of him, hot and relentless and Tony makes a choking sound, thighs and arms trembling and struggling to support his own weight. Steve leans down and hugs him close to his chest, deep inside of Tony, cock throbbing.  
  
“Did you mourn me?” Steve asks. His thrusts are slow paced at first, controlled. Tony takes a deep breath and attempts to focus on that, and not on how wet his eyes feel. “Answer me, Tony.”  
  
“I did,” He’s crying now. Steve is moving faster, deeper, giving him everything he ever wanted, and Tony’s crying. Deep, choked noises come out of his chest and he finds himself struggling for air again, unable to push the image of Steve’s dead body from his mind. “I wish it was me, just-- don’t do this to me now. Just-- fuck me harder.”  
  
Steve does. It feels all-consuming and agonizing at the same time. Tony rests his elbows on the floor and drops his head onto his arms, moaning as Steve pounds into him. He comes inside Tony with a quiet groan, and kisses his nape gently. It makes Tony sob even harder.  
  
“I just want to know one thing,” Steve whispers, nuzzling Tony’s hair, panting.  
  
There’s a quietness in the room that feels like dread.  
  
“Was it worth it?”  
  
Tony feels his heart seize, and his whole body stills—  


 

-

  
  
He wakes up alone, still in his office, with drying come in the front of his pants and tears staining his face.


End file.
